


Blind Spot

by EnzymaticWitch



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bad end, Do Not Archive, Eye Horror, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Kidnapping, M/M, Tentacles, Trans Martin Blackwood, canon-typical beholding nonsense, made tim sad whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnzymaticWitch/pseuds/EnzymaticWitch
Summary: Statement of Timothy Stoker regarding the abduction of Martin Blackwood. Statement taken direct from subject by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute.





	Blind Spot

Tim agreed to help Martin follow-up on this statement mostly because he’s hoping to get laid.

Maybe not by Martin, though he wasn’t against that scenario. Their relationship is more coworkers-with-benefits than anything else since Martin holds a torch for Jon and Tim doesn’t tend to do romantic relationships. But if Martin wants to hit a pub, or go back to Tim’s after they investigate this spooky house, Tim’s optimistic about his chances.

Said spooky house was apparently the site of a menaced old handyman who died shortly after giving a statement. Jon wants Martin’s follow up on this tomorrow and Martin wasn’t keen on going alone, so here Tim is, pressing Martin against an ugly off-white door and trying to coax him with kisses.

Martin smiles at him when he breaks the kiss, dreamy-eyes and a little breathless. Then he pinches Tim’s cheek

“I am not going to sleep with you while we are breaking and entering,” Martin says, tapping the spot he hurt.

Tim groans, backing away to give Martin space. “Martin—“

“Help me finish this and we’ll go back to your place?” Martin says, pulling the door open.

They can’t see the bottom, the torchlight being eaten up after a few feet. It’s odd, after the Prentiss situation Jon made Elias buy them all heavy-duty torches so they should be able to see further.

“This place sucks,” Tim supplies with a grin, hoping that he looks more confident than he feels. Martin gives him an uneasy smile.

“It, it does give off a bad feeling,” he agrees.

“Martin?”

They both look back down the stairwell. Tim thinks for a moment that he may have hallucinated the sound, but Martin has gone still.

“Martin?” the voice calls again.

Tim wants to groan. Definitely not hallucinating.

“Is that— did you just hear Jon?” Martin asks, incredulous, pointing his torch deeper into the stairwell, trying to extend the light.

Tim grips his own torch tighter. “I think we should get—“

The voice interrupts what would have been a strong argument from Tim to leave the house. “Tim? Martin? Is that you?”

Jon appears from the darkness, grimacing when the light hits his eyes.

“Jon? What-what are you doing here?” Martin asks. The pit of fear welling in Tim’s stomach seems to not affect him.

Tim cannot ask his own questions, breath caught in his throat as his body tells him to run. He cannot will himself to move, to grab Martin and run from something a primal part of him is screaming to avoid. Martin takes a few steps down the stairs, out of Tim’s reach.

“You said you weren’t going to—“ Martin begins, prepared to launch into a lecture about investigating statements alone, close enough now that Jon snatches his wrist in one hand. Martin says Jon’s name, confused. He cannot see the eyes staring at them from the dark behind Jon, but Tim can.

”I miss you,” Jon says with a happy sigh, pressing Martin’s palm to his own cheek. “I miss you.”

Martin tries to stutter out a question, a red flush spreading high on his face. Tim wants to scream.

“Jon, this isn’t really—“ Jon hushes him with a kiss, long and deep. The indignant noise Martin makes would have been funny if he didn’t follow it with a disgusted wretch. Martin stumbles a few steps back and spits onto the floor. A single blue eye stares back at him.

“What?” he chokes, horror dawning on his face.

“I won’t have to miss you anymore,” Jon says with a too wide smile. The scars on his face open, revealing many different colored eyes, and they all look at Martin with adoration.

Martin does not scream, and Tim isn’t sure if he can’t or if the same paralysis has gripped him. The shadows grow longer, solid, and reveal eyes on stocks crawling up the stairwell in writhing, halted jerks. They stop just before Tim and encircle Martin’s feet.

“You’ll come home with me, right?” he asks, commands, cupping Martin’s cheek with his other hand, the smile on his face Tim could only describe as loving. The eyes circle Martin’s legs, winding around them and Martin jolts and rips himself out of Jon’s grasp.

Tim slams the door once Martin’s through, grabs his arm and pulls him into a run. If they escape the house they might be safe, might survive. Might go back to Tim’s place and drink themselves stupid to forget.

They make it to the entrance when Martin screams and falls. One grabbed Martin’s leg, it seems, and the others have quickly descended. Tim curses and tries to pull him free.

He stills when a hand wraps around his wrist.

“He’s mine, Tim,” Jon says, serious, staring him down with all his eyes. Another hand comes up and caresses Tim’s cheek, less loving but still fond. Tim stares back at the thing that is not their boss, lips moving but no sound coming out.

“I— Tim—“ Martin tries, hoarse, panic biting at the edge of his voice. Tim returns his focus to Martin and wishes he hadn’t.

The eyes travel up Martin’s body, pushing over and under Martin’s clothes until they reach his face. Martin does scream, then, when one eye pushes into his mouth, though he is quickly muffled and gagging around it. Others push into his nose and ears, alongside the one in his mouth, writhing and coiling until Martin is hidden under the mass.

He doesn’t know if Martin lets go or he does, but Tim loses his grip all the same.

The mass pulls towards the door, Martin’s muffled screams nearly drowned out by the slick sliding noise. Jon walks alongside it, in it, caressing the tendrils like they are precious. One massive eye swivels around and focuses on Tim. It grins, he can tell, despite it being just an eye.

The door slams shut.

—

The room is silent save for the sound of the tape recorder running.

“Statement ends,” Tim finishes, sharp and bitter, with more meaning than Jon can understand.

“Tim...”

“It doesn’t matter!” Tim shouts, pushing himself away from the desk and slamming the chair into the wall. “It doesn’t matter if it was impossible. I couldn’t save him and I couldn’t save—“

He stops, stares at the tape recorder with disdain. “Martin didn’t deserve it.”

They stay there, silent except for the whirring of the recorder before Jon clears his throat. “Your cheek—“

Tim scowls, huffs a harsh laugh. “That’s what you want to ask about.”

“You didn’t mention an injury—“

Tim sighs as he tears the bandage off his face.

“Oh god—“

“Yeah. Parting gift, I guess. Not exactly a normal place for an eye, is it?”

—

“Supplemental.”

“We filed a police report. Basira— Detective Hussein, that is, was kind about it but she explained that sectioned officers don’t find the missing persons assigned to them. Not even their bodies.”

“Tim been doing... well, not well. He’s been avoiding myself and Sasha, but he’s been working. He’s here before me in the morning and here when I leave, following up on statements, doing research.”

“...He refuses to see a doctor about the eye.”

“Elias doesn’t think Martin will return, and he seems much more... grave, I suppose. He returned to form relatively quickly after the worms but this disappearance seems to have actually disturbed him.“

“Martin’s mother was uninterested in her son’s disappearance. She’s ill, I know, but I got a distinct feeling that she’s glad Martin is gone. I can see now why he was as kind as he was, even to people who were nasty to him. I...”

“...”

“I’ve been dreaming. About Martin and the creature with my face. Every time I close my eyes I see them. The strangest ones are the ones that seem almost domestic. Martin cooking in my flat, or shopping with the creature, or— it doesn’t matter.

“It doesn’t matter! Sometimes it looks at me and smiles with all its eyes. Mocking, like it won some grand prize in a game I didn’t know we were playing.”

“I... can’t leave him there.”

“This is a bad idea. The worst idea I’ve ever had, probably. The statements I could find about the house on Hill Top Road mark it as a place that should be avoided, but if— I can’t live with myself if there’s a chance that Martin is alive and I did nothing. I won’t ask Tim to go back, and I won’t risk Sasha either. It has to be me.”

“If I don’t come back, whoever listens to this... I think we both know you shouldn’t follow me. End recording.”

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Jon Cucks Himself and Tim
> 
> I will probably eventually add another chapter in the future so expect that banging content in like six months.
> 
> lmk if there are any tags/content warnings i should add thanks love you xoxoxo


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